


Pulls Her Hair Back As She Screams (I Don't Really Want to be the Queen)

by JackEPeace



Category: Conviction (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Divergence, F/F, Femslash, future fic -kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:51:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8752162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackEPeace/pseuds/JackEPeace
Summary: Tess discovers that the only thing worse than seeing her face own face staring back at her from a newspaper article is seeing her aunt's. (established relationship future-fic)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Can't stop, won't stop. This pairing is so perfect and magical and wonderful we need more Tess and Hayes in our lives! 
> 
> Title comes from the song "Meet Virginia" by Train because apparently 90's pop songs all really remind me of Hayes and Tess.

When Tess opens her eyes, she can see the city stretching out below her. Her breath fogs the glass of the window and she shivers just a little from the cold seeping in through the glass. The apartment across the alleyway already has Christmas lights in the window and they twinkle a rainbow of colors even though the sun is up and the day has begun. She can hear the sounds of the city, the morning going on without her in it. If she was alone, Tess knows she'd get up, wash her face and brush her teeth and get ready to start her day, even though the hour is early and it's the weekend. But she's not alone, so she just turns away from the window and into the warmth of the person beside her.

Tess tucks her face into the crook of Hayes' shoulder, letting her nose bury itself into the waves of dark hair. Hayes smells like soap and shampoo and yesterday's perfume, the same smell that clings to Tess's sheets after she's gone, for the days following the nights they spend in Tess's apartment. Neither thing seems to happen all that often anymore: they spend almost every night at Hayes' and together.

Hayes stirs, grumbling in her sleep but moving closer to Tess rather than away. Tess has always been more than a little envious of Hayes' ability to sleep the hours away, to drift off and stay there. She's always been a light sleeper and once she's awake she knows there's no use fighting it. But that doesn't mean that staying tucked against Hayes isn't still the best prospect, even if all she's doing is waiting for Hayes to wake up.

Outside the bedroom, Tess can hear Jackson moving around, talking on the phone, clicking through news channels. The election is only days away and it seems like Jackson is plugged into CNN and the coverage constantly. Hayes couldn't care less, though Tess figures it might be more of a projection of indifference than anything else.

When Tess thinks about dating the president's daughter, her heart flutters and skips a beat. Only because the person in question is Hayes Morrison.

"You're tickling me," Hayes grumbles and her voice startles Tess. Hayes shifts slightly so that Tess is dislodged from the curve of her shoulder and she peeks an eye open so that she can look at her, their heads resting on the same pillow. "Better."

"Sorry," Tess says feeling a little sheepish and then ridiculous for apologizing for breathing but her apology results in a sleepy smile from Hayes that still manages to look impish. It doesn't surprise Tess that Hayes wakes up ready to cause trouble and push people's buttons.

Not that she minds. She wouldn't trade getting to wake up next to Hayes, to see her in these early moments, for anything.

Hayes shifts her position again, putting her arm around Tess and pulling her close, so that Tess's head is resting against her chest. "It's Saturday?" There's a hopeful tone in Hayes' voice, the sound of someone hoping desperately to play hooky for the day.

Tess smiles. "Saturday," she confirms. She wonders how terrible it would be for them to stay here all day, to leave only when they need to steal something from the kitchen. For a while, she was afraid of sitting still, of letting herself be idle; there was too much danger, too much possibility, in letting her mind wander. But now Tess has found she doesn't mind lingering so much, as long as she's got someone to linger with.

"Good," Hayes says decisively and she kisses the top of Tess's head absently, her fingers trailing down to the small of Tess's back. There's nothing intentional about her touch, no goal or motive aside from absent connection. "Maybe Jackson will bring us breakfast."

Tess laughs and rolls her eyes. "You can get your own breakfast," she chides, even though that would mean getting up and Tess isn't exactly sure how she feels about that. "Besides, he sounds busy."

Hayes groans, covering her face with her free hand. "Stupid election," she mumbles. "Brother-stealer."

Tess likes to watch Hayes interact with Jackson. She likes to hear Hayes talk about her brother, she likes to see two people love each other so much without agenda or expectation. She's never had that, not since she was a little girl and she lost her aunt. Selfishly though, she hopes that Hayes will feel that way about her one day, that this thing between them, these fleeting moments, don't mean more to her than they do to Hayes.

Tess sits up, pushing her hair away from her face. "We can make breakfast," she says as she looks down at Hayes. "Let's get dressed."

Hayes reaches for her instead, pulling her back down so that they're laying chest to chest. "Later," she declares, kissing Tess. "Let's just stay here."

Here is good. Tess likes it here.

* * *

 

They're working a case that leaves little time for anything else. It involves the kidnap and murder of a five-year-old child from a playground and for once, the team seems to care little about antagonizing each other and going for each other's throats. Instead, they seem only interested in bating each other to look at the clues, study the case, ensure that the real killer is the one in jail and that a predator is off the streets. It's nice. Tess enjoys the lack of tension and the jubilant feeling of cooperation, even though she knows it's not going to last.

There's a routine of sorts that Tess has developed and Tess is all about her routines. Sometimes she thinks there's something wrong with her because of her dogged commitment to doing things the same way and at the same times whenever possible. Her childhood therapist, the one the school provided for her because her mother couldn't be incited to do it herself, had been a firm believer that Tess's love for routines was all about her desire to be in control and feel confident. Tess thinks maybe she just likes knowing exactly how things are going to be. Stopping by Matty Tan's coffee cart for breakfast; spending hours studying the case, tracking down leads; lunch at the bistro a block over from the office, often with Frankie if he's not busy; more work and then, her favorite part of her daily routine, going home with Hayes.

The case and her routine are enough to distract Tess from anything else.

So it comes as a complete surprise when she's leaving the apartment with Hayes -both of them dressed for work and ready for another day of untangling the story of the murdered girl- and they're bombarded by a gang of reporters clustered right outside the door. The doorman looks frazzled and apologetic, doing his best to hold back to the swarm, to chase them away. But his efforts become useless the second they see Hayes and they surge forward, yelling out questions and holding out phones and cameras.

Tess feels a little guilty when her first thought is about what Hayes might have done recently to get herself into trouble. Her antics have been pretty tame lately, not that Tess is trying to take credit for the change; it just seems that Hayes is a lot more subdued when she has someone she's interested in going home with. She feels like she would have known if Hayes had gotten mixed up with something that would warrant a front page news story.

Even so she pulls her hand away from Hayes', surprised by the people shouting for Hayes' attention, squinting against the rapid fire of flashing lights.

It takes Tess only a second to realize that the reporters are yelling about the election, firing off questions so fast that in their rush to get the words out they're just talking over each other, creating an indecipherable jumble. Hayes only scowls at them, holding up a hand to shield her face and stepping slightly in front of Tess as though in an effort to defend her from the madness.

Tess has no idea how someone could remain so unflappable in the face of all of…this.

"Hayes!" One of the reporters shouts, pushing his way forward and nearly crashing right into the two of them. "How do you feel about the election results?"

Another camera is shoved forward, the reporter clicking away even as she asks, "How does it feel to be a First Daughter again?"

Hayes looks surprised by a total of a half second before recovering her expression and Tess feels better because she's not the only one who'd forgotten the approach of such a monumental occasion.

"Swell," Hayes says, reaching out to push one of the cameras away from her face. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got some real work to do."

Hayes makes her way through the crowd, dragging Tess along behind her. She's too surprised, too overwhelmed, to do anything but follow in her wake.

One of the reporters follows them closely, phone in Hayes' face. "Hayes, who's your friend!" He looks over at Tess. "What's your name sweetheart?"

Hayes flips her elbow and catches him in the stomach, an impressive feat considering she keeps her gaze straight ahead.

When they leave the apartment together, they usually walk to the district attorney's office. Those are the days Tess varies her routine, stopping for breakfast wherever Hayes suggests because she doesn't want to go by Matty Tan's cart; she doesn't want to bring those two parts of her life together. But today, she's grateful when Hayes has the foresight to hail a cab and get them away from the flock of journalists still dogging their every move.

Hayes slams the door shut behind them, gives the driver the DA's address and then leans back in her seat. "Christ," she spits, scrubbing a hand across her face. "I can't deal with this shit again." She glances over at Tess. "Are you okay?"

Tess nods though she thinks her wide eyes might give her away. "Is it always like that?"

"I kinda got used to it as a kid," Hayes says almost sadly. "They'll find something else to talk about soon, another train wreck to cover." She reaches out, taking Tess's hand and linking their fingers together. The touch is fleeting, as though Hayes isn't even aware that she's doing it. "I'm sorry."

Tess smiles slightly, warmed by Hayes' brief touch. "It's okay," she says and she means it. "I'm happy for your mom."

Hayes makes a noncommittal noise and doesn't look like she shares that particular sentiment. They don't talk for the rest of the ride or when they pull up in front of the DA's office, stepping into the building with Tess once again following behind Hayes.

* * *

 

Hayes is right about one thing: the journalists do find another story to cover. It's just not as far from the original story as either of them would like.

Frankie brings her the paper the following day and she's surprised to see her face there in a side story to the election. The picture is of her and Hayes leaving the apartment the day before and Tess looks at the picture of herself, her eyes wide and her expression betraying her surprise at being accosted by a dozen journalists. She doesn't think anyone can blame her for that reaction.

While most stories are about Harper Morrison winning the presidential election and becoming the first female president, it seems that there is still time to cover her daughter's love life.

Thankfully the article is short, more about Hayes and her past exploits than about Tess herself. But still, Tess is utterly flabbergasted by the idea that anyone would find her remotely interesting or would be at all intrigued by her relationship with Hayes. Everything about her relationship with Hayes is so private, so personal, something for just the two of them. Not even the team knows.

Well, Tess figures that's out the window now.

When Tess looks up at Frankie, he's smiling at her sympathetically. "I thought there was something going on between the two of you."

"Frankie, I-"

"Look, you don't have to apologize if that's what you think," Frankie assures her quickly. "It's not really anyone's business. I'm sorry people seem to think it is." He points to the paper in her hands.

Tess shakes her head and tosses the paper into the trashcan. "So ridiculous," she mumbles. "Why do people even care?"

Frankie shrugs. "Getting into other people's business is what journalists are good at," he says. "And they know Hayes sells papers."

Tess frowns, peeking down at the paper sticking out the trash. In the picture, Hayes looks so much more composed than Tess feels; it's almost comical, how different their expressions are, though Tess doesn't feel much like laughing. Hayes is in the middle of reaching for her, preparing to push her away from the journalists who have come sniffing out a story. Not for the first time, she feels terrible that Hayes had been forced to grow up in a situation when such a thing was so common place that dealing with journalists and photographers feels like second nature to her. And she feels terrible that Hayes has let herself be known for her disastrous antics when there's so much more to her than that.

"Come on." Frankie's voice startles Tess out of her reverie. "Let's take a break. It's almost lunch time." He gets to his feet and Tess follows suit because it seems like the logical thing to do. "Where do you want to go?"

"The bistro," Tess replies without thinking and Frankie doesn't look surprised. For the first time, Tess can't help but wonder if maybe her childhood therapist wasn't onto something with that whole control thing.

* * *

 

It doesn't take the reporters long to uncover her name and Tess tries not to let it bother her. She's had her brush with notoriety before, in a much smaller avenue. She's not exactly a fan.

Hayes presses a feather light kiss to the freckles on her shoulder, slipping an arm around Tess's waist as they lay curled in bed together. They're at Tess's place for the first time in weeks and Tess feels almost guilty, as though Hayes is so out of her element that she might never want to come back. Not that Tess's place is a dump by any means it's just…small, simple, quaint. Things that she feels don't apply to Hayes Morrison.

But still, Tess likes having Hayes here in her space. She likes being at home with Hayes curled up behind her.

And there are no reporters jockeying for a story outside. Yet.

"I don't know how you do it," Tess mumbles, more to herself than anything. Conversation has tapered off a bit and her eyes feel heavy, her body tired. But still, her mind is running over the events of the past few days and how it felt to see her name printed in the paper. "Having people trying to follow you around all the time, taking pictures, writing down whatever they want…"

"It's terrible," Hayes says flatly. "I swear my mother only ran for president to make my life miserable all over again." Tess can't tell if Hayes is joking so she keeps her comments to herself. "Half the time it was easier just to fuck up and do the wrong thing. It was like that was what they expected and it was much easier than trying to stay off their radar all the time."

Tess turns her head slightly so she can glance back toward Hayes. "Feeling like getting into a little trouble?"

Hayes smirks. "Are you offering, Tinkerbell?"

Tess only rolls her eyes. "I'm trying to stay out of the papers, thank you."

There's a smile on Hayes' face but it doesn't reach her eyes. "Collateral damage."

Tess takes Hayes' hand and kisses her palm. Neither of them say anything and they stay curled up together as they drift off to sleep.

* * *

 

Hayes leaves in the morning to get some things from her apartment -though Tess thinks she's just using that as an excuse to show up late and ruffle Wallace's feathers- and Tess walks by herself to the DA's office. She takes her usual route so that she can stop by Matty Tan's coffee cart, already reaching into her wallet to get out the necessary bills and unnecessarily large tip. She'd be afraid to add up the amount of money she's stuffed into the tip jar in an awkward act of contrition.

There's an unfamiliar face manning the counter when Tess walks up but she smiles anyway. The smile isn't returned; the guy gives her the once over and seems to find her lacking in some way.

Tess keeps her smile fixed in place because she isn't sure what else to do. "Hi! Can I-"

The guy turns and says something over his shoulder to the other person in the cart and when he turns around, Tess sees that it's Matty Tan. He, too, frowns when he sees her and Tess thinks about abandoning ship and hurrying to the DA's office.

Some ill-conceived sense of politeness keeps her rooted in place when Matty walks up to the window. "So, Tess," he says flatly, with a resigned sigh, "is this why you're always here?"

Tess only stares at him, uncertain of how she's supposed to respond. In a way, she knows exactly what he's talking about, even though she so desperately wants to feign ignorance.

Matty holds up a newspaper and Tess discovers that the only thing worse than seeing her face staring back at her is seeing her aunt's. She feels cold all the way through and dizzy, like the floor is tipping beneath her and threatening to spill her to the ground.

Tess reaches for the paper, snatching it away without thinking and she holds it tight enough that her knuckles turn white and pages crumple.

"Those tips make a lot more sense now," Matty says and there's nothing in his voice, no inflection, no hint at how he's feeling.

Not that Tess needs to know how he's feeling. She can make a pretty good guess.

Tess steps back from the cart, turning and hurrying down the street through the people heading to work or home or just off somewhere that seems important. As much as she wants to go back to her apartment and lock the door and hide beneath the blankets, Tess's feet take her to the DA's office and she rides the elevator to their floor, grateful that there's no one else in the cab with her. She can see Sam and Maxine in the conference room, studying the crime board, and she slips past them while their backs are turned and disappears into her office instead.

She keeps the article about her aunt on her desk and Tess tries to ignore the smiling picture. It's been years; she's been without the woman longer than she had her in her life but it doesn't seem to matter.

Tess isn't sure how much time passes before she can hear the sound of Hayes' heels clicking against the floor. She closes her eyes and wills Hayes to walk past, to go into her own office and to momentarily, for a few hours at least, forget that Tess Larson even exists.

No such luck. Hayes breezes into the office the way she does everything else: obliviously and with a gusto. "Journalists should be outlawed," she says as she tosses her coat and bag onto the chair across from Tess's, making herself right at home. "And my mother is already trying to schedule politician's daughter time with the press and for her charities. And she's asking about you, by the way. She wants to know why I never mentioned you, like she has no concept of how terrible she is."

Tess doesn't answer and Hayes looks at her, lifting her eyebrows in preparation for a witty comment about needing attention. But the look on Tess's face stops her and Hayes' expression betrays her concern. "What's the matter?"

Without a word, Tess hands over the newspaper article and Hayes' eyes dart across the print, the pictures, the frayed parts of Tess's life splayed out so easily for everyone to see. "Fuck." The word is as heavy and sharp as a knife and appropriately so.

"Tess, Christ, I'm sorry," Hayes says and she wisely keeps the article, folding it in half and tossing it onto the pile of her things. "They're vultures, they have no concept of human decency if it might keep them from a good story and-"

"I don't want to talk about it," Tess says flatly, her words stopping Hayes in mid-stride. "Please leave me alone."

Hayes is well schooled in controlling her reactions; she makes her hurt look like confusion. "Tess, I'm sorry," she says again. "I know this is really shitty but it's not the end of the world. We can-"

"To you," Tess says softly. "It doesn't feel that way to you." She gets to her feet, swallowing as she looks up at Hayes. "I can't do this right now, Hayes, it's too much."

This time there's no surprise or confusion on Hayes' face. There's nothing at all. "Okay. Fine."

They stare at one another in silence for what feels like forever but Tess is certain it's only a few seconds. Neither of them knows what they want the other to say. And Hayes doesn't say anything when Tess turns to leave, grabbing her bag as she leaves the office and hurries back toward the elevators. The team will have to do without her for the day.

* * *

 

Frankie sends her a message an hour later, telling her that he hopes she feels better and passing along what Tess is certain is a humorous story about Maxine taking Sam to the carpet but it doesn't make her feel like smiling. She wonders what Hayes said about her absence; she wonders if Frankie and the others saw the article this morning too and they're just acting like it doesn't exist. She's not sure if that makes her feel better or worse.

By the end of the day, Tess is tired of being by herself. It isn't helping and she keeps thinking about Hayes in her office and how it would have been so much easier to let Hayes take her in her arms and say stupid things that wouldn't have helped but might have filled the silence in Tess's head anyway. Instead it had felt better to leave her, to push her away, in the same way that it feels good to press your finger to a bruise.

When Tess leaves her apartment, she thinks about going to see Hayes. A part of her still wants to bare her teeth and fight, like backing Hayes into a corner and having her fight her way out will somehow make Tess feel better about her aunt and what she's done. It won't and Tess forces her feet to carry her in the opposite direction.

There's not a line in front of the coffee cart by this time and Tess is grateful. She's also grateful that when she walks up to the window, Matty Tan is there again, his friend in the back of the cart wiping down the coffee machine. When Matty sees her, his expression closes off and he seems to really look at her for the first time.

"I'm sorry," Tess says without preamble, without adornment. It's what she's wanted to say for so long and it suddenly doesn't feel like enough. And maybe it isn't enough but it's all she can offer right now.

Matty doesn't respond but eventually he nods, his jaw tightening and for the time being that's going to have to be enough for the both of them.

* * *

 

When Tess gets back to her apartment, she's surprised to find Hayes waiting outside. The desire to rail against her is gone and suddenly she feels tired enough to let herself fall into Hayes' arms and resign herself to whatever might follow next.

But Hayes doesn't give her the opportunity. She stands up straighter, crossing her arms over her chest and closing herself off. Tess doesn't look at her as she fishes her keys out of her bag, unlocking the door and leaving it open for Hayes to follow her into the living room.

Hayes doesn't take off her coat and looking at her now, Tess thinks she looks exactly the way that she always imagined Hayes would look in her apartment: out of place, garish and uncomfortable. Has it really only been last night when she'd looked so at home, when she'd seemed to fit in so well to Tess's space?

"I talked to my mother about the press issue," Hayes says in the same tone that Tess has heard her use with Wallace, with Sam, in interviews. Like a part of her is gone, tucked away somewhere, keeping her words clipped and professional. "She's going to have Jackson talk to the editors of some of the major papers, make sure that they know you're off limits. Of course, if you're around me it'll be harder so I get it. I don't want you to have to be my mother's collateral damage too."

Tess only shakes her head. "Hayes, earlier-"

Hayes holds up a hand, a gesture that serves to quiet Tess and increase the distance between them. "I understand. That story about your aunt getting out is my fault. And I really am sorry. Things will die down when they don't see us together anymore."

Tess's brow furrows. "Is that what you want?"

Hayes only looks at her. "I understand. It's too much."

Tess recognizes her words from earlier and she hates the thought of them rolling around in Hayes' head all day. "I don't blame you for what happened," she says softly and she realizes that her words are true. She might have earlier but now…now it doesn't matter. Now she just wants Hayes.

Hayes offers her a brief smile, fleeting like she can't sustain it for long. "Good." She nods. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen, for you to-"

Tess reaches for her, taking her hand and pulling her closer. Hayes doesn't resist and that's when Tess thinks that maybe all of this will be all right, that she hasn't lost everything because she doesn't know how to let go. Instead of holding onto her aunt and her guilt, Tess vows just to hold on to Hayes instead.

Hayes puts her arms around her and they stay that way for a while, holding onto each other in silence, without agenda, without expectation.

* * *

 

Tess wakes up to the sound of Hayes moving beside her, knocking something off her nightstand as she reaches for the phone vibrating on the bedside table. She cures softly and Tess hides her smile in the pillow that smells like Hayes' shampoo. She opens one eye, looking out at the view of the city. It's her favorite thing about Hayes' apartment, aside from the fact that Hayes is in it. Christmas is closer now, only weeks away, and she can see more decorations from the window. The dusting of snow on the ground only helps make everything look merry and bright.

She shivers from the chill but before Tess can pull the blanket around herself, Hayes is laying down behind her, pulling Tess to her. "Sorry," she says as she kisses Tess's cheek. "My mother has no concept of phone etiquette."

Tess tilts her head back so she can kiss Hayes. "It's okay," she says. "What did she want?"

Hayes makes a face rather than answer. "Breakfast, how about we get breakfast?" She asks instead, moving away from Tess and getting out of bed. "Pancakes."

Tess lifts an eyebrow, watching as Hayes moves through the room to find something to slip on to spare Jackson any sort of trauma. She was out late the night before and the dress that her mother picked out for her lays in a heap on the floor. The dress and the shoes flung into the corner probably cost more than Tess will make in a year yet she's not surprised to see them tossed aside so carelessly in Hayes' room. It somehow looks like they belong there.

"Are you changing the subject?" Tess questions, sitting up and watching Hayes as she runs a brush through her hair.

Her makeup is mostly gone from the night before but there's still smudged eye shadow on her lids, a bit of rouge still left on her cheeks. Tess wants more than anything to be the only person who sees Hayes in these moments, these unkempt and messy moments where her guard is down and she's only Hayes, not the manufactured version that everyone else gets.

"Yes," Hayes says frankly, setting her brush down and turning to look at Tess. "But if you must know my mother has requested your presence at her Christmas party."

Tess lifts an eyebrow, trying not to smirk at Hayes' impression of her mother. "Oh."

Hayes shrugs. "You don't have to come." She waves the idea away quickly with a flick of her hand. "Some disappointment will do her some good."

"Do you want me to come?" Tess questions and she tries not to feel anxious about the answer.

For a second, Tess thinks that she's about to get a non-answer, some evasive half-response that Hayes didn't learn from her time in law school. But then Hayes shrugs. "It would make the party more bearable if you were there."

Tess smiles and nods. "Okay. It's a date."


End file.
